


That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trainee Auror Ron Weasley meets a man in a blue box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a silly conversation about TooHotToStayWet!Ron who has been created by rosina_alcona, looong before Russell T. Davies created TooHotToStayWet!Doctor in _New Earth_.

I'm burning through the skies  
Two hundred degrees  
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit  
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic man of you  
[...]  
I'm a sex machine, ready to reload

Queen, Don't Stop Me Now

 

Ron Weasley, trainee Auror in his second year, was bored. The recent months had proved that being a Dark wizard catcher wasn't all that it was made out to be. The running, jumping, climbing trees bits, they were the good bits (Ron remembered fondly the chase after the Monster of Glangarrock and the ensuing battle high up in the branches of the Tree of Death), but the bits inbetween were boring, boring, _boring_. Lurking on street corners, hiding under Moody's smelly old Invisibility Cloak, rummaging through mouldy old cupboards in some muttering old hags' cottages - these were the realities of every-day Auroring, and he was getting sick of them.

Tonight was another such night of Boredom and Tediousness. Ron was standing on the corner of Knockturn Alley and Fair Alley, waiting for something to happen. The Invisibility Cloak was hiding him effectively, but it wasn't exactly waterproof, and the rain penetrated it easily, cold water drenching his robes and running under his collar. Ron shook his wet hair from his eyes. This was ridiculous. He almost wished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back. At least back in the old days, fighting Dark wizards was thrilling and adventurous. Now, life was much safer, but it also meant that just because some short-sighted old witch thought she had seen "something suspicious" in the dark alleyway during a rainy night, he was send out to investigate.

The witch had not specified the nature of the "something suspicious", merely described it as large, rectangular thing appearing out of thin air. It sounded to Ron as though someone had set up a large-scale smuggling business and was using big boxes for transport purposes - not unheard of in Knockturn Alley - but it was hardly an Auror's job to get the culprits. Ron ground his teeth in frustration. It must have been Percy's doing. Since he had been sleeping with the Head of Auror Office, Percy had taken to influence her to assign the most ridiculous tasks to his youngest brother as some form of late revenge for having been on the right side all along.

Just as he had leant against the brick wall and was considering whether he could afford having a short nap (sleeping in the vertical position was one of the first and most important skills young Aurors learned, albeit unofficially), it happened: The air was suddenly full of sound, fading and increasing like a badly tuned wireless, and the air in front of him began to ripple and then to shimmer, and then the form of a large blue box materialised right there at the street corner. Checking quickly whether his Invisibility Cloak was still in place, Ron raised his wand arm slowly and pointed it into the direction of the box. Strangely enough, it looked somewhat Muggle. That would be an offence against the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts regulations. That'd keep Dad happy.

The box seemed to burst open, and Ron realised that it had, in fact, a door. A door through which emerged a human-shaped figure, tall and slender and wearing a long robe. It stepped into the circle of light provided by a nearby lantern, and Ron saw that it was indeed a man, youngish and dressed in an ankle-long Muggle coat. Just as he was still trying to make out how a Muggle had learned to Apparate, and Apparate using a wooden box at that, the man stared directly at the spot where Ron was standing, and Ron got the distinct impression that he was able to see him. He pulled the hood deeper over his face, his wand momentarily pointing towards the sky. With uncanny instinct, the man chose that precise moment to pull out his own bluish wand and direct it at Ron. "Who's there?" his whisper cut through the night air like a rapier. "Show yourself!"

For a few heartbeats Ron stood very still, considering his options. A non-verbal spell was the best choice, seeing as the stranger was armed with a wand, too, and might be better at duelling that Ron. Concentrating hard, he formed the incantation in his mind and felt the force of the spell shoot through his arm and explode in the tip of his wand. The beam of light shot out from under the Cloak and hit - a protective shield installed around the box. The spell flared up and faded, while the man remained upright, frowning slightly.

"I know you're there," he said, sounding quite calm for a person who had just been attacked. "Who are you? Are you a wizard? You can come out, I mean no harm."

As though to emphasise his words, he lowered his wand arm and held up the other hand, palm turn towards Ron, his gaze dark and intense. Ron would never know why, but something told him that the man wasn't lying, that it was quite safe to come out and talk to him. Maybe it was the strangely captivating voice, or the fact that something about the man made him think of Bill - the tall, slim silhouette, the air of effortless elegance and casual superiority - and Ron decided to risk it. He pulled off the Cloak in one swift motion and, lowering his wand likewise, took a few steps towards the stranger, who smiled.

"Hello," he said, looking at Ron as though he was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. "I'm the Doctor."

~*~

"I almost travelled through time, too, once. Friends of mine did, anyway" said Ron, propping himself more comfortably against the wall in the console room of the Doctor's TARDIS. His host was busy pulling levers and pumping pumps and hitting small buttons with large hammers, and Ron would have felt rather ignored, had the Doctor not been sending a glance his way every now and then that made Ron feel as though he was the centre of the universe.

"You did?" the Doctor asked now, his eyes smiling at Ron across the console, his fingers wrapped around a pulsating tube. "By what means?"

"A Time-Turner," said Ron. "Long story."

"Then tell it," the Doctor said. And Ron did.

By the time he had finished, the Doctor was sitting beside him, leaning against the wall, long legs spread out untidily. A bottle of very good, very strong wine was standing between them, and when they reached for it at the same time, their fingers brushed.

~*~

Close up, the Doctor looked even more like Bill: the long-lashed eyes, the long-fingered hands, the long lines of his body, which was now sprawled across the floor, the freckles... It was because of that resemblance, really, that Ron felt so relaxed and secure with him. The Doctor felt like family, and the fact that his body was emanating warmth that made Ron all tingly and shivery, was... um, non-existent. It was simply... Not. There.

Ron shifted uncomfortably, undecided whether he wanted to get closer or move further away. The Doctor lay quite still.

"You never told me how you knew," Ron said at last to break the silence. He turned his head towards the Doctor and saw that he was looking at him.

"Knew what?" the Doctor breathed.

"Knew that I was there."

For a moment, Ron's breath caught as the Doctor reached out a hand and touched Ron's hair, very gently. He pulled his hand back almost immediately, but his eyes held Ron's gaze. "It's dry," he said by way of explanation.

"Right," Ron said sheepishly. "What?"

"Your hair. It's dry. It dries very quickly doesn't it?"

And as Ron, utterly confused, only nodded, the Doctor added, "So does mine. I dry almost instantly. It seems we share the same level of, um, inherent hotness."

"Meaning what?" Ron rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Meaning that I saw the steam rising from you as you stood there invisibly," the Doctor said, "You might want to take this under consideration in future."

"Yeah, I think I will," Ron said and crushed his lips onto the Doctor's.

~*~

"I must warn you," the Doctor panted some time later, as he had writhed out of his suit jacket and lay under Ron looking very wanton with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie wrapped around his wrists. "I'm not a man."

"What?" said Ron distractedly, as he was presently working to get his own and the Doctor's trouser buttons undone. "You mean this is fake?" He pressed his hand against the Doctor's crotch and ground, just enough to make the other bite his lip.

"Ah, no, well, I am male," said the Doctor, "obviously. What I meant was I'm, ah, not a human."

"Oh," Ron frowned, mostly because his shaking fingers were not working quickly enough. "That's all right, though. Inter-species relationships are not that uncommon among wizards."

"Yeah, well, I'm an alien," the Doctor's voice had become ridiculously low and husky, which Ron found quite distracting. But not as distracting as the sight of what was hidden underneath the Doctor's pin-striped trousers, which was...

"Blimey," Ron said, sitting back on his heels. "Oh. _Oh_."

~*~

"Alien, I told you," the Doctor said, stroking Ron's hair back from his forehead. Over the Doctor's shoulder, Ron could see the instruments on the console being covered in a fine sheen of moisture where the vapour rising from their both bodies had crystallised. He felt quite content, lying on the damp floor, covered with the Doctor's hot, dry body, feeling the Doctor's two hearts beat against his ribcage. It was weird, in a very, very good way.

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "How cool is that? I mean, we get all sorts, but an alien? That's bloody brilliant, that is!"

"I'm glad you're taking it so calmly. Most humans tend to be somewhat disconcerted. Like, I was travelling with that girl - a pretty, curvy blonde - and she fancied me so obviously that it became increasingly difficult to ignore her, but as soon as she saw-" he gestured vaguely, "she ran off screaming and never came back. Shame, that. She was quite a feisty little thing."

"Ah, well, as I said. Wizards are quite used to the idea of having sex with different species. One of my best friends had a giantess for a mother. I've always wondered how his father had manage to... you know. And my eldest brother is married to a woman who turns into a giant bird of prey when she's angry. Well, not _all_ of her turns into a bird, only bits. I don't know which bits, though, as Bill doesn't want to talk about it. She's only part-Veela, you know. And another friend on mine is a werewolf, and he's married to a woman who changes her appearance at will. I think he makes her change into a man who changes into a dog - don't ask - and..." Ron broke off as he realised that his companion had a certain glassy-eyed look about him. "What?"

The Doctor licked his lips, a broad smile spreading across his face.

"Now, about that werewolf..."


End file.
